Dating site for bikers falling

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    We always used to hang out around the apartment drinking, playing cards, horsing around, bull shitting. Rick is a well-built, masculine guy, a carpenter, like me, with an in-your-face cocky attitude. He also shared my interest in bondage devices, and we had even tied each other up a few times. Being straight, there was never anything sexual involved with Rick.

    But the last time he had me tied up, he used my handcuffs, some chain and padlocks to get me into a very tight hogtie. I plotted to get a little revenge for that. I knew from horsing around with him that Rick was very ticklish, especially his feet and pits.

    I had never mentioned to him my interest in bondage and tickle torture, so he never suspected a thing. Late one night, after knocking back several Stoli martinis each, and several games of cards, he started to get rowdy and run off at the mouth about what a tough stud he was. The time was ripe. I challenged him to an arm wrestling match, loser to get tied up. He was drunk enough and cocky enough to accept. And being an ex-basketball jock, I am actually a lot stronger than I look.

    But I laid it on thick, baiting him, and saying that I would probably lose because he was so much stronger than me. I was secretly pretty confident that I would win.

    The match, at the table in the living room, was over in about 30 seconds. I took him down easily, slamming his wrist onto the table with little effort. You should have seen the stunned look on his face!

    He asked for the best two out of three why do losers always do that?

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    He came along reluctantly. My bondage board, which is 9 feet long and about 15 inches wide, was set up like a table, waist-high and horizontal. The board has a series of holes and hooks in it, perfect for tying a guy down in any number of very secure positions. Since we had both been hanging out barefoot and bare-chested, I just muscled him over to the board and pushed him down onto his back. I then spent the next 15 minutes tying him very securely to the board with several coils of thick rope.

    His wrists were placed over his head, arms bent, biceps flexed, and I tied ropes around his wrists, forearms, above the elbows, and below the shoulders, using the holes in the board to lace him down very tightly.

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    I grabbed his bare feet and pulled them down to the foot of the board. With his feet hanging over the end of the board, I spread his ankles and used more rope and the holes in the board to tie his ankles very tightly. More rope was then wrapped around his body and the board at his chest, waist, crotch, and knees. Taking two lengths of strong, thin sash cord, I started to tie up his toes to really immobilize his bare feet.

    Tying the end of one cord around the base of his big toe, I threaded it back through one of the chains that support the end of the board from the ceiling, and pulled hard. This caused his foot to flex back and his toe to be pulled back at a severe angle. Bringing the cord back to his foot, I looped it around his second toe, and threaded it down through a hole in the board between his legs, again yanking hard. Back up from under the board, the cord wrapped around the outside of his foot and looped around his middle toe, then back through the chain, pulling that toe back in a different direction.

    Back to his foot, I looped the cord around his fourth and fifth toes together, and yanked it hard out to the side of the board, where it was securely tied off to a hook in the board.

    Now each toe was bound and pulled in four different directions, making any movement of his foot virtually impossible. Then I did the same to his other foot. Throughout this, he kept bitching and moaning about the ropes being too tight and his toes hurting, but I just smiled and continued my work.

    When I was done, I sat back and admired the sight.

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    Man, was this dude tied up and helpless! He was still being cocky, and asked for a cigarette. So I lit one and put it into his mouth. That was his last cigarette for nearly two hours.

    I next did two things that I am really ashamed about. His hairy armpits were so stretched out and vulnerable that I got the idea to shave them.

    I thought that would complement his smooth, muscular chest. I went and got my Panasonic hair trimmer and completely removed the hair from both armpits, while he was struggling and cursing at me. I then attacked them with my fingers, tickling the shit out of the now defenseless pits, making him squirm and yell and laugh uncontrollably.

    You should have heard the swearing coming out of him, when he could catch his breath long enough to actually form words. What a filthy mouth on this guy! His cigarette had long since burned right down to the filter. I ignored his sputtering grunts indicating that I should remove it from his lips for him, so he picked his head up off the board as best he could, and spit the cigarette out onto the floor. It quickly went out, and I asked him if he wanted another one.

    Surprisingly, he said no. The other thing I deeply regret doing to him was messing around with his crotch. I simply got out my little electric hand-held vibrator, positioned the vibrating pad right on his cock and balls through the jeans, used some gaffers tape to tape the vibrator to his crotch, passing the tape over the vibrator and under and around the board to get some good pressure going, and turned the damn thing on.

    He jumped and did his best to squirm as the vibrations tickled his trapped genitals. And you know, an electric vibrator never gets tired… The thing hummed along happily for over an hour, while I went down to concentrate on those trapped bare feet. Pulling up a chair and getting comfortable, with a nice cold Michelob handy, I proceeded to tickle the shit out of his beautifully trapped bare feet. Using my fingers and fingernails, I found that the base of his tied-up toes, between the toes, and especially the helplessly-stretched arches were amazingly ticklish.

    And I really dug in. I could hear him laughing and cursing and gasping for air, but I just continued on and on. I could see his feet trying to flex and move away from my tickling fingers, but his toes were tied and stretched so tightly, that his feet just tensed up without being able to move. Poor dude, must have felt pretty helpless right about then. Besides my fingers, I used two old toothbrushes to explore his helpless toes and soles, and they got quite a reaction.

    So did the two shaving brushes, which worked equally well on his now hairless armpits. And the vibrator hummed along, so he was always being tickled in at least two different places. One of his fatal mistakes was not to have set a time limit on his bondage ordeal, so I took full advantage. Rick was finally pushed to his breaking point, gasping, begging, and generally showing signs of total fatigue and submission, so after about an hour and a half, I finally took pity on him, removed the vibrator, and untied him.

    He was exhausted and shaky as I helped him up off the board, he mumbled something about getting back at me, and stumbled down the hall into his room to pass out. He never got back at me. A few months later, he moved out of town. This story was written by Jack, who passed away a number of years ago. It originally appeared on his popular website, www.

    Metalbond reader Chris recently reached out with a copy of this story, and many others, which he retrieved by using the wayback machine. I hope that Jack would have been pleased that this story is being shared here and enjoyed again after all these years.
    By Bind After months of planning, my friend dug a hole seven feet deep.

    The plan was for me to be buried alive in the hole. I was starting to wonder if I was going to be buried, or just trapped in the hole and covered with a plywood board or something.

    But, knowing my friend and his creativity, I suspected the unexpected. Another friend of mine came with me to observe, photograph and videotape the scene. We arrived at 8: I put on a pair of board shorts and climbed down into the hole.

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    When I reached my arms up, I could barely reach ground level. I put on a gas mask with intake and out take hoses that were attached to an apparatus with a bladder so that he would be able to check my breathing.

    He put leather restraints on my wrists and I was cuffed behind my back. Dirt was shoveled down into the hole as I stood there. It took a long time for the dirt to fill up around my body. When the dirt was up to my waist, he got a long board and packed the dirt down with it. I could feel the pressure as the dirt was compacted around my legs and waist. At this point I realized that there was already no way out. He continued to fill in the hole and I began to disappear into the earth.

    He filled the dirt right up to my neck so that only my head was sticking out. I thought that he would stop there, but he just kept filling in the dirt.

    In fact, he began filling it in faster. He took a shovel full of dirt and threw it into my face, then on top of my head. It filled in around my head and I was unable to move my head anymore. When the dirt filled up to the lenses of the gas mask, I knew that in only seconds I would be covered totally. I watched as the dirt piled up and covered the lenses. It got dim where I could see just a little bit of light, and then with a couple shovels full more; I was plunged into absolute blackness.

    I could not move at all. I was able to hear the dirt as more was dumped on top of me.

    My hardest dirt bike fall to date....


    I could also feel it as the weight continued to increase. I thought that he would stop filling in the hole once I was buried over the top of my head, yet for several minutes I could still hear shovel full after shovel full of dirt being tossed on top of me.

    I started to wonder how deep I really was. It felt like my head must have been four feet or more below the earth now. I started to breathe harder with a feeling of panic knowing that it was quite possible that I could die in this hole. I felt quite a bit of pressure on my chest, but not so much that I was unable to breathe. But the air that I was getting was coming through a long tube, so the air seemed somewhat stale.

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    I heard him stop filling the hole and then I felt it as he jumped up and down on top of me. The soil compacted tight around my head, and I felt some compression as it pushed my head down toward my neck. Next, I heard something that sounded like it was being drug across the dirt above me. I found out later that he was raking the dirt smooth above me to hide any evidence that anyone was buried alive in his back yard.

    I felt as though I was permanently sealed in concrete.

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    I had a panic attack and felt like I was suffocating for a little while, but then worked out the panic in my mind and started to meditate. Eventually I was so calm that I began to dose off a little bit. I had a fear of falling asleep while buried because I was afraid that I would never wake up. After about an hour, the compression pushing my head down to my neck was getting unbearable and I was feeling faint.

    There was intense pressure around my forehead as well which was giving me a headache. I begged for him to dig out my head part way.

    Fortunately he had arranged it so that he could hear me through my air hole. He dug out the top of my head and I was able to move it up a little to relieve the pressure.

    I remained in darkness and was still unable to move. Over time I started to feel stress on my lower back and on the bottom of my feet from being in the standing position.

    I struggled as much as I could to free myself, but could move nothing at all. Sweat was dripping down my face and into my eyes as I fought for my freedom.

    I was hopelessly encased in the dirt. I knew that I was totally helpless and at the mercy of my captor. He had total control over my life. He could have very easily cut off my air and left me buried in his backyard.

    I imagined him installing sod over the top of me, or even pouring a concrete patio on top. I knew that there was a real possibility that something could go wrong and I would die. It was scarier than hell. Just before the two hour mark I started to feel some panic again. I was feeling faint and was having trouble trying to control my breathing.

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    I began to moan and he started to dig out my head. When the light hit my face I had to keep my eyes tightly closed, and even then the light was intense.

    After a while my eyes adjusted to the light. He had a parallel hole dug beside the one I was in and once that was dug, he was able to get to me and dig me out.

    As he was digging me out I began to get emotional and cried just a little bit as I realized that I had done something that many people will only fantasize about. I felt euphoric and happy. I came out of the hole around 1: I was covered with sweaty mud. It took two days to recover from the burial. My muscles were sore; I had a little bit of congestion from the dust, was dehydrated, and was exhausted from the struggle. Wow what an intense ride that was!

    The most awesome ride of my life! Metal would like to thank Bind for sharing this experience. To see more of Bind, visit Serious Male Bondage.

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